The Blackest Robe
by Archmagus Fenixlyonis
Summary: This is the story of Fenixlyonis Darkmoon, the tyranical Archmage, from life to ultimate death in the Age of Might before the Cataclysm. CHAPTER 3: The Conclave of Magi FINISHED!
1. Prologue

(( Note: All characters that are not the prior creation of another Dragonlance article are mine for the purposes of this story. HOWEVER, many of the characters herein are the creation of other individuals, and the primary flow of the story is centered around actual role-play that occurred on a Dragonlance MUD over the past two years. I promise, if any money is made off this story [which I highly doubt], any person whose character has been used will be sought out and compensated with their fair share. ))  
  
Prologue  
  
Dawn rose on a clear, beautiful morning over the vast woods of Qualinesti, the light traveling slowly up the great Tower of the Sun at the center of the majestic city of Qualinost. With fanfare and ceremony, the changing of the guards took place, archers returning to the city from their nightly watch, as the day-watchers went forth into the thicket to guard the borders.  
  
In Qualinost the month and day were different than the rest of the world, words hard to pronounce in human tongues, but for rest of the world this day was the 21st day of the month of Morgion, on the Day of Takhisis, and Nuitari, the Black Moon, had been in the sky that night, unseen by all but those of evil mind and heart.  
  
That night, a single cry had split the air, the cry of a newborn child, a baby elf entering the world from it's mother's womb, while it's father watched, his eyes flashing with delight. For this elven man, this father, was, unbeknownst to any in Qualinost, a Magus, a rather powerful Magus, a Magus who wore Black Robes. A member of the Order of Black Robes. The Black Order of Nuitari. That sect of the Order of High Sorcery that encompassed evil hearts and minds...  
  
Looking outside, this elf, this father, saw the black moon Nuitari, the god of Dark Magicks, which to his eyes was outlined in a faint purple hue, as his son was born just two hours into the new day, four hours before dawn.  
  
It could not be coincidence, in the world of Krynn these things were never coincidence. A child born under Nuitari, on the Day of Takhisis, in the Month of Morgion. And this father, Jenivarillios Bloodmoon, knew it.  
  
The mother, Minarialiria Bloodmoon, named her newborn son Fenixlyonis Bloodmoon, which in elvish was a name that evoked the Night and the Stars...  
  
Now the sun rose, morning on this Day of Takhisis, a day whose name the Elves ignored, giving it their own name and living their normal lives. Many of the elves of Qualinost came to see the newborn child, for so rarely was a child born to Elves. Even the Speaker of the Sun, who rules Qualinost and the Qualinesti elves from the Tower of the Sun, came to greet the new baby into the world.  
  
And so began the life of Fenixlyonis Bloodmoon, who would one day become a powerful tyrannical Archmagus... 


	2. Karthay, City by the Sea

Chapter One  
Karthay, City by the Sea  
  
Trudging wearily along the Shores Highway, the elven man looked south, and saw in the distance the gates of the city. The entire city seemed built to please the eye. Genuine seaside architecture decorated every building. The harbor's edge swept southwest along the city's border, massive merchant ships, some bearing the quite obvious signs of being Minotaur ships, docked securely, their sails ruffling in the sea-side winds. He continued down the road, finally arriving at the sign:  
  
"Welcome to Karthay, City by the Sea."  
  
As soon as he was up close, he began to see why many looked upon this city with revile. Despite it's beauteous atmosphere and appealing architecture, the entire city had a dark feel to it, like evil was crackling in the very air. The elf watched through the gates at the people, coming and going, going and coming, as normal people, except for that slight fear he detected in their movements, the occasional glance over the shoulder, the tense atmosphere. There is evil here, he thought to himself.  
  
Looking to the southwest, he could see the highest peaks of the legendary Seamist tower, his destination. Under Lady Rubina he planned to study the Arcane, and learn the ways of the Wizards of High Sorcery. His intentions were not to follow in his hated father's footsteps, but to prove once and for all that he could be and would one day be more powerful than his father. Better than his father. To this elf the name of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon was a name that produced bile in the throat, a name he hated, hated as the man who denied him the right to study Magic, forced him into Ranger training, all while showing infinite favoritism toward the younger brother. Damn him, Fenixlyonis thought angrily, Thank Lunitari he's dead.  
  
Stepping up the guards, expecting them to demand his reason for entry, he is shocked when they say nothing, completely ignoring him. The security here is so loose, he realized. Small wonder the locals are as jumpy as a bunch of kender in a dragon's lair. He entered the city, and began walking south down what the signs indicated as "Shores Lane." The road took him past the docks, and he found the road he was searching for, branching off to the southwest near the Fish Market.  
  
"There's Seraco Lane," he told himself, rather loudly.  
  
A rather large blustering woman moved close to him and said loudly, "Sir, new in town? I highly suggest you get to wherever you're going soon."  
  
He could tell she was quite edgy, just by her tone.  
  
"Why?" he asked. "What's going on?"  
  
"Just please, get to wherever you're going, and quickly!" she said hastily before hurrying off, as if afraid she'd be seen. Fenixlyonis shrugged, and continued walking, turning down Seraco. He wasn't the slightest bit frightened by the woman's vague warning, the natural arrogance of the elven race still prominent within him, but he did quicken his pace slightly.  
  
Suddenly the road opened up into a large square. He'd seen this Square drawn on maps before, but he never imagined that Seraco Crossing would be quite like this.  
  
It had every making of a typical big-city marketplace, with bustling bazaars, merchants shouting to drown out of the others' own, and droves of people all practically fighting to get at the goods. However, like the rest of the city, it wasn't without that same dark feeling, and Fenixlyonis continued to detect the cautious glances, the way the merchants didn't get too loud and flinched when they did.  
  
"Is it always like this?" he asked himself aloud.  
  
He continued walking down Seraco Lane, the Seamist Tower growing ever closer. He saw then, for the first time in his life, a dwarf! He was a burly dwarf, dressed in heavy armor and wielding a wicked-looking halberd. He glared around at passersby, and Fenixlyonis detected the similar edginess even in this strong warrior that he felt throughout the rest of the town.  
  
At last he reached Sandstone Lane, and just a few hundred feet away was the gate to the courtyard of the Tower! He had arrived at last! He practically ran to it's gates, and disappeared within.  
  
For the last four months he had been traveling. He had deliberately avoided Kalaman, though he passed within fifty miles of it as he rounded the Estewild Mountains. The route had taken him through the outskirts of Solamnia, where Magi were disliked quite severally, and along the Merchant's Highway through the Estewild Mountains to Istar.  
  
Istar! Jewel of the world, in every regard. It's towering buildings were made of beautiful white stone, smoothed to absolute perfection and vaulted with golden linings. Truly, for a moment Fenixlyonis had dreamed that he was looking on the very home of the gods themselves! He had stayed there for three weeks, and was almost unwilling to leave when he did, but he had no place at the Tower of High Sorcery in Istar, and was seeking out Lady Rubina to teach him in the ways of the Conclave. While he was already able to at cast spells, having graduated already from the small school of magic in Qualinesti(after his father vanished, his mother allowed him to attend), he still had a great deal to learn about the Magic and the ways of the Three Moons.  
  
The remaining month of his trip had been donated entirely to the final leg of his journey, the trip north along Dragonscale Highway, which took him to at least the Shores Crossing, where he began the sixty mile trip west along the coast before finally turning south into Karthay. If it hadn't been for his intense hate of his father, he might have thanked his father's memory for forcing him to train as a Ranger, for those skills aided him greatly on the journey.  
  
But next time, he told himself, I'm buying a horse! 


	3. Lady Rubina

Chapter Two  
Lady Rubina  
  
Lady Rubina sat in her desk chair, regarding the elf with interest. He was quite short, like most elves, although he could be considered short even for an elf, being at most five feet and three inches. She noted the eagerness in his handsome, angular facade, and the slight frailty evident by his limbs. He had muscle on him but overall was very lean, an elven trait in itself. She noticed that he wore his deep brown hair long, its length reaching his mid back easily, were it not for the ponytail he kept it in. He wore a pair of plain brown breeches, a simple gray shirt, and a green cloak that looked like it was a mock-up of elven design, clearly human in make.  
  
"And you have come here, all the way from Qualinost," she asked slowly, "To study magic under me?"  
  
She honestly didn't know whether to be flattered or flabbergasted.  
  
"Yes," he replied in his strong, tenor's voice, nodding once, "I have heard that you were quite a good teacher, and my... father... mentioned you often."  
  
Rubina raised her eyebrow skeptically, "Your father?"  
  
"Jenivarillios Bloodmoon," the elven man answered forcibly, through grated teeth.  
  
"Ah, yes," she remarked in response. "Him. He was my Shalafi after my Test. He was not a very good teacher, and I assume you dislike him, based on your tone."  
  
"Yes, I hate him," Fenixlyonis replied coldly.  
  
Rubina sat back, in silent consideration. Several minutes passed in silence, neither breaking eye contact.  
  
What if she doesn't want to teach me? Fenixlyonis asked himself. Is this entire trip in vain?  
  
When she finally spoke again, she did so slowly and deliberately, "I will take you on as a student. I will require payment, but I can help you get yourself a job here so pay for my services. If you want to lodge here, in my tower, you may, for additional payments, or you may find it more financially friendly to stay at the Seasick Kraaken. They have long-term rooms available."  
  
At that point she stood up, and walked over to one of the bookshelves lining her spacious and elegant study. Fenixlyonis stood rigid, unwilling to convey any emotion until she was quite finished.  
  
"You will find the pre-Test studies are rather boring," she continued. "And lessons with me will be both few and short. Most of your time will be spent completing assignments I will give you periodically, studying books that I give to you, and practicing spell mastery. I have two other students in the city, you may run into them eventually. As for times, from this point on I will expect you to arrive here, in this room, by the thirteenth hour of every Day of Nuitari, every Day of Gilean, and every day of Kiri-Jolith."  
  
Fenixlyonis nodded briskly. That wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting, but anything was something. Rubina approached him and handed him a book.  
  
"You will study this," she instructed. "It contains some rudimentary spells that are often essential knowledge for more advanced spellcasting; which reminds me, show me your spellbook, please."  
  
Reaching into his belt pouch, the elf drew forth a small leather-bound book with his name written carefully onto the cover.  
  
"I can only cast magical missile and a basic defense spell as of yet," he admitted. "I have a few other basic spellbooks I acquired on the trip with some other simple spells, and I have been studying them."  
  
Rubina replied thoughtfully, "Most teachers require students to clear their spellbooks first, but I suppose you're experienced enough. I won't require that."  
  
She turned and walked back to her desk, sitting in her high-backed chair carefully. "You probably already know, but the Conclave has recently tightened up it's requirements for Testing. You must have a complete spellbook containing all spells you are able to cast on your person at all times. From this point, as you are becoming an advanced student, the only bladed weapon you are henceforth permitted to carry is a small dagger, which can only be used as a weapon of last resort. Is that quite understood?"  
  
Fenixlyonis nodded briskly. He knew all that.  
  
"As for the tighter restrictions," she continued, "you will not be permitted to Test until you have demonstrated competence in casting a 4th circle spell, under MY supervision. Do not attempt to cast a 4th circle spell on your own. It is illegal for any unTested magic-user to cast any spell above the third circle."  
  
"Really?" he asked aloud, somewhat surprised.  
  
Rubina nods grimly. "The suspicions surrounding our kind are growing at an alarming rate. No longer is Solamnia the only place where we are reviled. A new leadership is beginning to take hold in Istar, and Archmagus Rishandal Darkleaf, the Master of the Black Robes and Head of the Conclave, fears the worst for coming years.  
  
"So, the Conclave has decided to police magic users far more closely. They fear the possibility of dissident or less dedicated magi giving us a bad name and further adding to the growing suspicions."  
  
"I see," he replied sadly. "I did not know that."  
  
"Well," Rubina began, "Perhaps it's time you went about your business of study, then?"  
  
Fenixlyonis turned to leave, but then turned back.  
  
"You have something to add, Novice Bloodmoon?" she inquired.  
  
"I forgot to ask," he said. "What is wrong with Karthay? The people are all scared of their own shadows, and everything is tense. What is going on around here?"  
  
"Oh, that," Rubina scoffed. "Karthay is currently in the sway of a group of Takhisis paladins. The balance of power shifts quite often here. You'll find it easy enough to stay out of the way. There is rumor that tensions are building between the Clerics of Takhisis and the Paladins of Chemosh, and the city may soon undertake a change of power. The fight is inevitable, it happens at least once every ten years or so."  
  
"That often?" Fenixlyonis asked, shocked.  
  
"Yes," she affirmed. "It's fairly certain that the Chemosh Paladins will manage to take over in the coming fight. The mayor will become someone else's puppet. Experience says that the Nightlord of Chemosh will probably send the High Paladin here to manage things and keep an eye on the mayor. Then a few years later the Takhisis followers will rally together and the High Paladin of Takhisis will resume control. You get used to it after a few shifts of power.  
  
"In fact," she mused. "I would find it highly unlikely if Chemosh's followers don't take at least some interest in you. The prospect of a new Necromancer for their ranks is always appealing. You'll likely befriend at least one."  
  
Fenixlyonis shudders.  
  
"I don't find that very comforting, Lady Rubina," he replied.  
  
"I doubted you would."  
  
Finally, the elf turned and left the room.  
  
I don't know what it is, she mused to herself. But I find something about that elf very disturbing. 


	4. The Conclave of Magi

Chapter 3  
The Conclave of Magi  
===================================================  
  
The bells tolled. Once, twice, three times. Eighteen times did they chime. The lights slowly rose upon the great gathering.  
  
"The appointed time has arrived! Order, please, ORDER!"  
  
The tumultuous noise of various conversations finally dimmed. The room was vast, with a high, vaulted ceiling, lit by torches that floated in mid-air. A semi-circle of twenty-one stone chairs was at its highest end, and the rest was encircled by rows of stands. The meeting hall of the Conclave.  
  
The semicircle of stone chairs was organized into three parts, each sporting seven chairs. At the center of each was an larger, high-backed chair, but the one at the very center was the most grand of all. In the seats sat twenty-one Magi, men, women, elves, and even a Minotaur that were members of the Conclave, the governing body of all Magi in the world of Krynn.  
  
To the left sat Magi in White Robes, and at their center was a stout- looking old man with a curious metallic orb hovering above his balding head. To the right sat Magi in Red Robes, and at their center was a stern- faced woman with elegant, flowing robes. And in the center sat Magi in Black Robes, and at their center was a frail, old-looking elf, who, despite his good-natured appearance, still radiated a sort of selfish cruelty.  
  
Having successfully quelled the crowd with her commanding voice, the Master of the Red Robes sat back down, and the Master of the Black Robes, also Head of the Conclave, stood. He was soft-spoken, eloquent, and rather quiet, but he held the room in such reverence that every whisper was heard by all present.  
  
"You have all been summoned here," Archmagus Rishandal Darkleaf began, "to the Tower of High Sorcery of Wayreth, to hear somewhat alarming news. This body will here discuss and determine the correct course of action for this situation. Magus Rubina Seamist, come forward."  
  
A tall, thin-framed woman in fancy red robes rose from her chair and moved forward, coming to stand upon the Emblem of the Eye embossed upon the floor before the Conclave, awash in light.  
  
"Do you understand why you have been summoned?" the Master of the White Robes, Dricken Flamewright, asked from his chair.  
  
"Yes, I do, Archmagus," Rubina replied confidently.  
  
Drawing forth a scroll, Archmagus Darkleaf uttered some words of the arcane language and it flew through the air into Rubina's waiting hands. He said then, in his quiet voice, "You sent me this letter, did you not?"  
  
After a casual glance down at the letter, Rubina nodded in confirmation. "Yes, Archmagus, I did."  
  
"Please read aloud the marked portions of the letter for the convenience of all gathered."  
  
With a nod, Rubina read aloud, "...Somewhat disturbing, Archmagus Darkleaf, is my newest student. He arrived three days ago. He is of elven stock, Qualinesti, to be exact, and he seems quite eager. However, the disturbing portion to this story is his name and clan. Fenixlyonis Bloodmoon. Son of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon..."  
  
As the name was spoken, select members of the body let out a startled gasp. However, most were obviously confused, looking about questioningly.  
  
"That will do," Archmagus Darkleaf announced. "Now, Magus Seamist, please tell us, has indeed the son of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon come to be taught under you?"  
  
Looking around, Rubina nodded with cautious demeanor, and then determined to keep her eyes fixed on Rishandal. Rishandal looked at her, as if delving with his very eyes into her mind.  
  
"Yes, he has, Archmagus," Rubina said, her voice wavering. She was beginning to wonder if she had done the right thing, accepting him as a student. Would she be punished?  
  
"Thank you," Rishandal concluded. "You may sit down, Magus Seamist."  
  
Rubina complied, hurrying back to the darkness of the stands and the safety it offered from prying eyes. Archmagus Rishandal opened his mouth to speak, when a voice came from the crowd, a woman's,  
  
"Archmagus Rishandal, may I?"  
  
Looking into the crowd, Rishandal smiled his lewd smile. "Ahh, Magus Leia Stormmane. Come forward."  
  
The moderately tall, dirty-blonde wizardess in red robes stood and came forward into the light upon the Emblem. She was well built, strong but still quite attractive. She was still quite young.  
  
"Archmagus Rishandal," she began, "members of the Conclave. Would it not be conducive, and helpful, to the rest of this body if you were to explain the significance of this name, 'Jenivarillios Bloodmoon'?"  
  
Rishandal Darkleaf let out a long, heavy sigh, then sat down in his chair. "Very well, I will retell the story of Jenivarillios Bloodmoon, as we know it..."  
  
===================================================  
  
Magus Jenivarillios Bloodmoon, known by most of his colleagues as Jenivar, was an astoundingly brilliant student. Born to the Bloodmoon clan of Qualinost, he was widely recognized for his skill with the Art. He was of Black Robes, like myself, but I never taught him. He began his advanced learning shortly after I took my own Test, and so I was being apprenticed at the time by another elven Wizard.  
  
About thirty years after he entered advanced learning, he took his Test, and passed. He joined me as Apprentice to Magus Shiradron Blackbloom. We became friends during that period, and soon after I graduated from Apprenticeship, Jenivar was transferred to be Apprenticed under me. Again, I discovered he was a brilliant student, and he completed his Apprenticeship under me in just six years.  
  
The two of us had become equals. We often studied together, exchanged spellbooks, and for one short while lived in the same room of the Tower of Palanthas. But then, he disappeared.  
  
Several years later, I received a letter from him informing me that he had returned to Qualinost to marry, having hidden his Black Robes from his wife and the rest of the elves. He told me that they had a newborn son, and that they expected to have another in just a few years. I was quite happy for him, but also knew that Black Robes were a hard thing to hide from the elves. As the subsequent forty years passed, his letter became increasingly strange. He spoke often of Nuitari watching his eldest, but he also spoke about the ways he discriminated against his older son, denying him the right to study magic and giving favoritism to his younger son.  
  
Then his letters stopped. His sons were, as far as I could calculate, forty and twenty-nine years, respectively. I never knew their names. Ten years later Jenivarillios resurfaced. For all accounts it was certain that he had gone mad. He declared himself a renegade, said that he would be the next Galan Dracos and that Nuitari was on his side. He began a reign of terror within the Orders of High Sorcery. I went to deal with him myself.  
  
That's when I discovered just how radically powerful he had become. But twenty of us, mostly Black Robes, finally cornered him in Karthay, when one of his former students, Rubina Seamist, lured him into a trap. We all pounced on him, my Black Robe fellows and I determined to kill him, but the two White Robes refused to do so, and tried to merely restrain him.  
  
We might have gotten rid of him in the encounter for sure had they not interfered, but we honestly do not know what became of Jenivar. I summoned a Dancing Blade and sent it at him, impaling him in his back. Several other spells from my Black Robe fellows stuck him before the White Robes could place protection over him. Then he began to try and cast a spell when a huge explosion knocked us all back against the walls.  
  
He was gone, and has not been seen since.  
  
===================================================  
  
"We don't know what became of him," Rishandal concluded. "He may have died or escaped. We still today don't know what the limits of his power were."  
  
Leia had stood, listening with interest. As Rishandal concluded, she shrugged, almost carelessly, and then returned to her seat. Whispers spread through the hall, panicked whispers, wondering what this could mean for the Conclave. Once again, the Master of the Red Robes stood and called for Order.  
  
"That is why we are concerned about this son of his, Fenixlyonis," Rishandal explained.  
  
"He could be intending to follow in his fathers' footsteps, or he could be completely innocent," Dricken said loudly. "This body must decide a course of action. Shall we allow him to study? Shall we deny him the right to study? Shall we banish him, execute him, or kill him?"  
  
The roar that went up from the crowd was deafening. Jeers, shouts, quite well separated between the robes. The White Robes were shouting that he was innocent and should be allowed to learn. The Red Robes thought it was too risky and that he should be encouraged to find some other career, but that it wasn't severe enough to merit banishment or execution, but the Black Robes were divided, some arguing for execution and some arguing that he should indeed be allowed to live, especially if he's watched by Nuitari. The Master of the Red Robes stood again, her anger seeming to radiate like a sweltering heat.  
  
"Lunitari's idish, I said ORDER!"  
  
The crowd went silent yet again, many trembling at the raw anger present in her voice.  
  
"We are here to conduct a CIVIL meeting of the Conclave!" she reprimanded sternly. "You are all experienced, intelligent wizards, so stop in-fighting like impotent goblins!"  
  
She sat back down again, and absolute silence reigned over the hall. Rishandal smiled at her.  
  
"Thank you, Ieisha," he said to her, then returned his gaze to the crowd. "First, let's take a hand count. Who is in favor of allowing him to study?"  
  
Roughly one third of the hands raised, mostly White Robes, and about half the Black Robes. Rishandal knew then what the decision would be. Politics, he thought bitterly, they even affect we Magi.  
  
"Who then," he continued, "is in favor of prohibiting him from study?"  
  
Again, roughly one third of the hands raised, mostly Red Robes. Dricken sent Rishandal a look that said, "You know what will happen now." Rishandal smiled ruefully at him. He did. The Black Robes would be split down the middle, giving about half their weight to the White Robes' position. None would support the Red Robes' position. The other half would support execution.  
  
"Who then," he concluded, "is in favor of execution?"  
  
Roughly half the Black Robes raised their hands, with a small smattering of the more liberal-minded Red Robes. Rishandal nodded grimly at the body.  
  
"The body has spoken," he said wearily. "We of the Conclave shall remain in the meeting hall to reach the final decision."  
  
Many of the Magi got up to leave, but a select few remained, Rubina and Leia among them. They were rooted in their seats, and were determined to learn all they could. Leia, being she had a great dislike for renegades, having been a student of a turncoat herself, and Rubina, obviously, because it was her student in question.  
  
One of the elder White Robes on the Conclave, Aulicia Whiteblaze, spoke first,  
  
"We cannot go against the choice of the Three Orders together, but it is up to us to decide the specifics of this situation."  
  
The three masters nodded in confirmation. Dricken spoke first, as it is customary for White to speak first, Black to speak last.  
  
"We must allow him to study, according to the letter, this Fenixlyonis hates his father. That much is clear."  
  
"It may be an act," Rishandal interjected. "He may be trying to throw us off."  
  
"I seriously doubt it," Dricken affirmed. "Despite the fact that this Fenixlyonis has a strong likelihood of following his father into the Black Robes, we cannot be absolutely certain of this. Neither can we be sure that his loyalties will not lie with the Conclave."  
  
"I would prefer that he not be given the chance," Ieisha said sternly. "We shouldn't even teach him, but the body has spoken. I would suggest we advise Rubina to teach him at an agonizingly slow pace, perhaps then he will be discouraged and leave of his own accord."  
  
"Not possible," interjected the Black Robe, known as Aislynn Whiteblaze, sitting to the right of Rishandal. "According to Magus Seamist he has already learned to cast spells. He cannot be allowed to live outside Conclave jurisdiction. He must die or he must learn, and since dying has been ruled out, he must learn. It is the only option."  
  
"I agree," Rishandal said in support of this claim. "The young Novice is just that, a Novice, and thus is past the point of no return. I would prefer to kill him and be done with it, having known his father myself, but as that has been removed from the table by our White Robe brothers, he must learn, and must be taught like any other student. No discrimination."  
  
"Well," another Black Robe replied silkily, "We could always allow him to take his Test, and then assure that he failed it..."  
  
"An outrage!" Dricken snapped. "Do you want to anger the Three Moons with your impudence!? That would be open blasphemy!"  
  
"It was just a suggestion," the Black Robe replied offhandedly. He leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes.  
  
"He will need limitations," Rishandal said sternly. "See to it that he learns slowly. We should do whatever it takes. If he rises slowly to power, learning patience his father never learned, he will likely be more apt to succeed as a mage, as I have."  
  
The Conclave sat in silent consideration. Finally, Dricken spoke,  
  
"I agree, Archmagus. I will personally see to it that he learns at a slower pace."  
  
Dricken turns to face Magus Seamist, still sitting silent in the stands. "You will teach the young Novice for three years, then once he has attained the Third Circle I will take over from there."  
  
Rubina nodded grimly, then Rishandal addressed the Conclave,  
  
"Are we in agreement?"  
  
After a few moments, all the Conclave members nodded in unison.  
  
"We will keep a close eye on him," Rishandal ordered. "Hopefully, things will turn out for the best."  
  
And if they don't, he mused to himself, then Nuitari help us. 


End file.
